ORIGINS: James and Victoria
by Eruadhiel
Summary: I know I can never escape, but I run anyway." The story of James and Victoria, slightly modified. T for mild scary themes. Please review!


I don't own Twilight, Victoria or James.

* * *

ORIGINS: James and Victoria.

* * *

I run.

As fast as I can.

But it isn't fast enough.

Enough to escape _him._ I will never escape, but I run anyway.

We're in a dark warehouse, I fly around huge, metal containers, the dim glow from a few security lights create shadows, hiding him.

I dash around a corner, my hair flicks into my eyes, and I veer into the wall. I push myself away, right into him.

He holds me with his arms, his eyes. His skin is ice, his eyes onyx. But they don't shine; they seem to absorb all the light from around him. A grin cracks his stone features, and I freeze, my heaving chest the only movement in the abandoned warehouse. His head tilted to the side as and he regards me, like a cat with a toy.

"Victoria."

My name on his lips wakes me from my terrified trance, and I wrench myself out of his grasp. He lets me go, and I fly back the way I'd come.

The door. Where is as the door?

There! That way! Or is it..?

Suddenly I am in his arms again; he had appeared out of no where, a ghost. But he is too strong, too real to be a mere phantom. But he isn't human. No, I am certain of that.

His hand is on the small of my back, and I am frozen as I look into his eyes again. He propels me back.

My feet move in time with his, like a dance. My back is at the wall now, I let out a whimper.

"I am James."

That voice! So terribly beautiful, I can't stand it. I try to run as I had before, but his arm across my shoulders is a band of iron, he doesn't even seem to realise I am exerting all my force against him. I stop, panting.

He leaned in closer, our noses almost touching.

"You breath is intoxicating." He whispers.

I wrench my gaze from his, and search for something, anything, to help me.

I suddenly realise his nose is now at my throat, inhaling. I freeze again, wondering if this is it.

But he laughs, and I am released again.

I fly again, back where I had come.

He's toying with me, I realise.

I swerve around a corner, and a shaft of moonlight catches my eye. A door!

I force my legs to move faster, but something moves in the darkness and I know he's there again.

His fingers circle my wrist as I run, and my momentum swings me round to crash into his stone hard chest.

I spin, trying uselessly to get away, but he keeps his grip, and pulls me against him again. My back is at his chest now, and he lets go of my wrist to wrap one arm around my waist. My fingers claw at his arm, but he doesn't even seem to register that fact. I cannot see his eyes, so I am not hypnotised by his gaze and I struggle against him.

Why I bother I do not know.

"Your hair smells even better that your breath, you know." He whispers into my ear. I feel his cold breath on my face, but I am frozen again at the sound of his voice.

"It smells how it looks, like fire. You could set the world on fire with it." And he chuckles softly.

The sound sends lances of pain, fear, terror through my veins.

"Yes, we'll set the world on fire. You were merely going to sate my thirst for human blood…" my shriek for help cuts him off. He muffles it with the hand he had been running through my hair, then carries on as if I'd never made a sound

"…but your spirit is so strong. Even with the pure terror you have coursing through your blood, even with the knowledge that you'll never outrun me, you still fight."

His hand tastes strange.

I'm still struggling, but his arms don't give the slightest bit.

I realise I'm crying, my tears running over his hand which is still over my mouth, blocking my sobs, choking me.

He lets me go again, and I'm off. As I round a corner, I catch a glimpse of him. He hasn't moved, but he's looking at his hand, the one with my tears glinting on it.

I run again, but I'm no longer flying. My breath is ragged, and my steps weave drunkenly. I don't know where I'm going, but turn corners at random. I turn another corner, and realise I'm heading to a dead end. I stop, skidding on the smooth concrete floor.

I stand, facing the wall, my breath is so loud.

I know he's there. He makes no sound, but I _know_ he's there. Fear wracks my body, shudders ripping through me. I can't turn around.

"Turn around." He says, as though he read my thoughts.

And I do.

He's closer than I realised.

A shaft of moonlight lights up his silver blonde hair and for a moment the glow look like a halo.

But for all his beauty, he is no angel.

One step.

Two steps.

He's coming closer.

I stare through him, pretending he's not there until he's right before me; I'm staring into his chest.

To my surprise, he puts his arms around me like a lover, but I remain standing as I was. I don't try to push him away, but I don't fall into his embrace either.

I'm too confused, too terrified.

"Shh…" he whispers into my ear, and I realise that I'm sobbing.

Again his voice moves me to action, and I try to jump away from him. His arms tighten, and I let out a strangled gasp.

He laughs, startling me again. He never reacts as I might have imagined.

"Still trying to fight!"

Suddenly I sag, giving up.

I'm tired of running.

His arms are now holding me up, not just constraining me.

He picks me up like I weigh no more than a rag doll, and I flop about like one too.

I've given up. Let him kill me, if it will end the terror.

After a moment he sets me on my feet, and I open my eyes.

We're at the door. The see the road, abandoned at this hour, and the moon casts everything in an eerie yellow light.

A slight breeze at my back, and he's gone.

But his words echo in my ears.

"_I'll come for you." _

* * *

I dream of him every night for the next week.

In my dreams, he's my friend, my lover, and I run as swiftly as he does through the world.

A world on fire.

* * *

Life holds no interest now. I am too afraid to begin anything, knowing that he's coming for me.

I sit on my bed one night, staring blankly at a book.

I move slightly, and a shaft of moonlight cutting through my curtains lands on the page, reminding me with a jolt of the night I met him.

James.

There's a soft breeze behind me, and I turn to shut the door.

James.

"Victoria."

He stands in the doorway, holding me with his eyes.

He tilts his head, like a cat regarding a toy.

He crosses the room, sits on the bed.

"Don't run."

The thought hadn't crossed my mind.

"I have you now. You won't escape me, I won't let you go. We shall set the world on fire."

My hand reaches out, seemingly of its own accord.

I watch it, and he watches me, as it touches his cheek.

His skin is cold, hard.

I smile, and he smiles back.

He takes my other hand, and raises it to his face. He inhales deeply at my wrist, and I see again that his eyes are black onyx.

"I've been waiting."

He kisses the palm of my hand.

My breath stops.

He takes my little finger between his teeth.

And bites.


End file.
